


The End of the End

by twokisses



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, Angst, Carry On Countdown 2019, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:15:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21879472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twokisses/pseuds/twokisses
Summary: “Well, there’s no point in throwing down all the time. Doesn’t get us anywhere. And it hurts. I suspect we’re saving up.”“For what?”“The end.”“The end of school?”“The end of the end. The big fight.”AU in which the events of eighth year never happened, and Simon and Baz do finally reach the end of the end.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 8
Kudos: 57
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2019





	The End of the End

**Author's Note:**

> this was actually for apocalypse day!! i just forgot to post it on ao3

Baz has probably spent more time than most thinking about the ways in which he might die.

That it would be at Simon Snow's hand, or somehow as a result of his doing, has never been a doubt in his mind. It's only ever been a question of when and where and how.

Well, he's finally gotten his answer.

It's now, deep in the catacombs under Watford, either from Snow's magic or his blade. Baz can hear his familiar tread coming down the time-worn steps. 

Baz's wand dangles carelessly from the fingers of his right hand, which is hooked over a bent knee. When he leans his head back against the stone wall, his mother's engraved name pushes harshly against his skull. He closes his eyes.

Snow's footsteps get steadily closer.

It's almost comfortingly reminiscent of their fifth year. Baz never thought that he'd consider anything about that year comforting, but he supposes that his perspective on real pain has changed in the past few hours. There was a radical shift in it the moment his father told him it was time.

_ For what?  _ he asked, naively.

_ For the war,  _ said his father, like he should have known.

He  _ did _ . But he didn't want to believe. The dead spots that have been blossoming like flowers for months; the increasing frequency of the Mage's raids on Old Family homes; the dark creatures' brewing dissent reaching a crescendo that was decades in the making...

Of course the war was coming. Baz knew. But he didn't want to believe.

And he knows that a big part of that was due to the fact that the end of the world meant the end of him, by Snow. It meant facing the end of their twisting narrative, that Baz always hoped (just a little) would turn out well for them.

Snow's steps hit level ground with Baz. Then he emerges from around a turn with the Sword of Mages in his hand and a hard determination in his eyes, and Baz knows what the end is going to be.

"I can't believe you're here."

Snow's voice echoes sharply through the settled silence of the tomb. He's stopped in the archway, grip white-knuckled around the hilt of his sword.

Baz has never felt so pinned in place by his stare before.

"You believed it enough to come, didn't you?"

"But you - they're - " Snow shakes his head. "Your family is outside. Fighting."

Trust Snow to be confused about that. Honourable to the last, he is.

But it's true. Outside, the world is burning. The Old Families and their allies, shooting spells and shouting curses at The Mage and his men. Most of it is erupting on the Watford lawn, but a few tendrils of the fight have snuck into the corridors of the school. Baz can hear the odd, muffled shout through the stone ceiling above him, in between the thunderous booms of heavier magic from outside. He wonders when the Humdrum will show. It must be soon. He saw the shadows of dark creatures shifting along the perimeter of the Wavering Wood earlier, just before his father pulled him aside to tell him to  _ find Snow. End this. _

"They don't need me there," Baz says, and his words come out sounding like there are lead weights attached to it. He's just so tired. "They need me here."

"With me," Snow says.

Baz tilts his head to the side as if to say,  _ pretty much. _

Snow is still standing in the same place. Still as a statue. From this distance, Baz can't tell what his eyes are saying, but there's a strange twist to his mouth that Baz doesn't understand. He would say it looks like uncertainty, but that wouldn't make sense. 

This is what they've been working towards since the day they met. This is what Baz has always really been good for.

_ Kill Snow, or die trying. For your name, your family, the World of magic. Your world. _

His world. What is his world? It's the boy standing in front of him, with the delicately shaking hands. The boy who will, in the near future, bring his sword across Baz's throat.

And even now, with that truth humming in the air between them, Baz loves him. 

He'll love him until it all ends. He'll love him until he sees his mother's face, until he crosses over.

He'll love him until he can't anymore.

Baz stands, and Snow's gaze is pulled up with the movement. His wand, always an extension of his arm, does a quick spin between his fingers, then snaps familiarly into the palm of his hand. He sets his feet further apart.

"Alright, Snow," he says. He does not let his voice shiver. "Let's finish this."

**Author's Note:**

> for more of my snowbaz content, come on over to my [tumblr](https://sbazzing.tumblr.com/).


End file.
